


Just Desserts

by shy_violet_soul



Series: Life is Good (for you) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Partial Nudity, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy_violet_soul/pseuds/shy_violet_soul
Summary: There’s a prankster at work among TFW.  Let the punishment fit the crime....or the criminal.





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been struggling with writer’s block, and had this idea rattling around in my head after I saw a couple episodes where the brothers pranked each other. This was a fun break from my other story as I imagined what would happen if there was a completely unintended target to a prank. Uh, oh! 
> 
> ** Supernatural characters belong to CW. Rae (OFC) is my creation. This work of fiction is my own. Don’t repost or post on other sites without my written permission. Thank you!

Pulling his truck up to a free spot at Gas ‘n Sip, Cas untangled the hose methodically before getting the fuel flowing at the pump.  As he patiently waited, his gaze fell on the small farmer’s market across the street where he knew Rae sometimes shopped. She’d been complaining this morning that Sam had eaten the last of the fruit.  A sign in the store’s window proclaimed that East Texas Peaches were in stock and $0.59 a pound. Cas fished his phone out of his pocket to fire off a text to his friend.

_ Hello, Rae.  I’m near the market.  Do you need any assbut? _

Forehead crinkling, Cas stared at the incorrect word in confusion.  He knew he’d clearly typed ‘fruit’.

_ I apologize, I meant assbut.  No, not assbut. Assbut. _  Now even more perplexed, Cas closed the messaging app, reopened it, then tried again.   _ Rae, I’m sorry, the word should be A. SS. B. U. T. _

His head cocked to the side as his befuddlement grew, Cas flipped the phone over and inspected it carefully before returning to stare at the screen.  A reply popped into view.

_ What?  _

Huffing in frustration, Cas tried again.

_ Rae, I am sorry.  Something is wrong with my phone.  When I try to type assbut, it puts assbut instead.   _

A pause while Rae’s replying dots signaled her typing.

_ Use your emoticons, Cas. _

Cas sighed with relief as he tapped open the other keyboard. 

_ Of course, that is a good alternative option to communicate my question. _

More dots waved across the screen as he awaited Rae’s answer.

_ LOL, got it.  I’m good but thanks for checking. Looks like someone got into your phone. _

The fuel pump ka-chinked as it shut off, and Cas’ eyes rolled as the realization came to him.

“Dean.”

 

******************

The bunker door banged behind him as Sam hustled down the stairs, plucking his earbuds out on the way.  Today had been a perfect day for a run! Cool without being crisp, a gentle breeze, gorgeous sunrise...it had been so refreshing he’d added an extra mile just to enjoy it.  As he chugged the last of his bottled water, Sam toweled off the sweat and plunked his phone, earbuds, and water bottle on the kitchen table. Surprisingly, Rae already sat at the island with a half-finished cup of coffee, sleepily spreading peanut butter on some toast.  

“G’morning!” he chirruped out, grinning at her groaning response.  “You didn’t drink my juice, did you?” he asked playfully as he got a glass down from the cabinet.

“No, I didn’t drink your fresh-squeezed liquid gold, Sam.  Pulp,” she mumbled, shuddering as she licked the knife clean.

The hunter snickered as he swung open the fridge, nabbing the covered pitcher he’d placed there the night before.  Giving the container a shake to stir up the contents, he poured himself a healthy serving.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.  I added a little fresh lime juice and grated ginger,” he singsonged to her as he hooked another stool over with his foot to join her.  Rae scoffed as she handed him the newspaper at her elbow.

“I like juice, but all those grainy clumps you love get stuck in my teeth.  Gross.”

Unfolding the pages, Sam only chuckled as he chugged back a hearty swig.

And promptly spewed it all over.

Not juice.  Not orange juice  _ at all _ .  The awful, chunky tang of powdered cheese had him gagging as he nearly fell off the stool, his stomach rolling as the one horrid swallow he had downed hit bottom.  Retching that sounded like a gargling bear bounced off the stainless steel, and he distantly heard Rae’s frantic voice beside him.

“Sam!  Sam, oh, my God!”  

The noxious cheesy fake-juice squeezed up his nose, burning everything in its path as Sam hacked and wheezed.  He stumbled to the sink, still retching as he fumbled for the faucet. Rae’s hands were there, twisting the water on and pounding on his back ineffectually.  Cupping his hands under the stream, Sam sucked in a mouthful, tried to swish and just messily choked water all over. Rae’s hands disappeared as he faintly tracked her hollering behind him, but Sam was too busy trying to get the heinous taste of fake cheese out of his mouth.

“I can’t find Dean, and Cas isn’t answering!  Sam! Sam, are you okay? What the hell was that stuff?  I thought you said it was juice!”

Breathless when his choking, gagging fit was over, Sam slumped to the floor.  When he paused to wipe his face, Sam took in the scene over Rae’s shoulder where she hovered worriedly in front of him.

The pitcher sat innocently on the steel counter, the plastic glass had skittered across the tile floor.  Splashes of icky orange puddled and dribbled like a sad kitchen crime scene in a path to the sink. His shirt front was soaked with water, drool, the false-cheese-juice, and the bits of whatever he’d horked up from his stomach.  

Someone had swapped out his juice for powdered cheese mix from instant mac ‘n cheese.

“Dean!”

**********************

Crouched in the hall outside the showers, Dean could barely contain his glee.  He knew he’d already pranked Sam once, but this one was just too perfect. The trap had been carefully laid, all he had to do was slink in and get him when he pulled open the shower curtain.  The water cut off, and Dean heard the familiar sound of a towel rolling off the bar. Stifling a fresh batch of giggles, he snatched up his bucket and tiptoed into the shower room. 

_ One...two… _

Sam had just ducked out of his room, headed towards the library, when he heard the following in rapid succession.

A bucket clanged against the shower room floor.

“Oh, shit!” from his brother.

And a scream from Rae that he was pretty sure woke a few dead people.

Three quick strides put him in the shower room doorway just as Dean came bolting out, colliding with him and sending them both to the floor.

“Dean?  What the hell?” he grunted as Dean planted an elbow in his middle in his struggle to get up.

“Get out of the way, she’s gonna kill me!”  The green-eyed hunter sounded honestly terrified as continued shrieks from the ‘she’ in question kept bouncing off the tile.  The bucket came whizzing through the door, grazing Dean’s skull before crashing into the wall. Both brothers swiveled to the doorway, staring at the figure slipping and tripping towards them.

_ Don’t laugh.  For the love of God, don’t laugh _ , Sam ordered himself.

She really was going to kill him.

Flour, painstakingly well-mixed with glitter, coated every wet inch of Rae’s front, from head to toe.  The stuff was rapidly gumming up in her hair, trailing into her eyes and mouth.  Sam studiously tried to ignore tantalizing glimpses of curves as she frantically tried to cover up with her towel as she dug for more weapons.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Dean wailed, still scrabbling for freedom.

“I’m gonna kill you!” came Rae’s battle cry as her rapidly-sticking fingers grasped a nearly full bottle of shampoo and flung it at him.  Dean ducked instinctively for cover; it was unfortunate when the cover ended up being Sam. The plastic missile slammed into the younger brother’s face, sending him toppling.  Rae didn’t see that she’d felled the wrong brother as she cursed and threatened and searched for more projectiles. A comb and a toilet brush came sailing out next, both falling short of their intended target.

The famed elder Winchester, hunter extraordinaire and slayer of monsters, cowered against the tile floor, trying to keep her in sight but not look at her at the same time.

“I swear, I thought it was Sam!  I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry!”

“Lies!  You lying liar prank skank!” Rae shrieked as she launched a bar of soap at him, squawking when her floured foot found a wet spot and sent her sailing backwards on her butt.  The soap, a sizable bar fresh from the box, ricocheted off Dean’s nose, felling him like a paper bag.

The three laid there for a moment, gasping with exertion from the skirmish.  Cas suddenly appeared in the shower room, angel blade at the ready.

“Where is it?” he demanded, taking in the scene.  Rae lay to his right, covered in a white and glittery substance as she tried to get a towel wrapped around her.  Dean was dragging himself to a seated position, blood pouring from his nose. Pushing his brother off his leg with the opposite foot, Sam’s bitch face was in full form as he gingerly cupped his left eye.

“Where’s what?” the younger brother asked, still glaring at Dean.

“The monster,” Cas demanded as he spun around, checking behind him.

Covered haphazardly with her towel, Rae pointed imperiously at the elder Winchester.  

“Right there.  Kill it!”

A heartbeat later, Cas had a fistful of Dean’s hair and his blade against the man’s throat.

“A shifter!” he growled out.

“No!  Cas, no, it’s really Dean!  Everybody just...calm down,” Sam squinted at them from his good eye.

Rae coughed as she dragged in a breath, lifting one hand to stare at the globbing stuff coating her.

“Sam, it’s gonna take me forever to get this off.   _ Forever! _  He needs to be punished!” she wailed.  Sheathing his blade, Cas gingerly walked to Rae’s side, helping her to her feet.

“I may be mistaken, Rae, but I thought flour was typically used as a cooking ingredient.  And glitter for decoration. However, I understand that flour can be used as a binding agent in some crafts.  I believe it is called _papier mache_. Is this what you were attempting?”

Defeated, Rae plopped her face into her sticky hands, sending a poof of glistening powder to the floor.  Swiping off the blood from his chin, Dean clasped his hands as he knelt in the doorway.

“Rainbow, I -”

“Don’t you ‘Rainbow’ me!” Rae squeaked when her towel dropped to one side, inadvertently flashing a floury boob before she wrangled it back into place.  

_ Do not smirk, do not smirk! _ Dean ordered himself, schooling his features back into penitence.

“Rae, I’m so sorry!  What can I do? I’ll do anything!”

The woman fixed a furious eye upon him.

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

Rae glanced to where Sam was getting to his feet, left eye already swelling shut from the shampoo bomb; to the half-inch thick smears of floured glitter on the floor that would probably take a hammer and chisel to get up; and finally at the bedraggled clumps of hair that looked like limp chicken tenders ready for the fryer.  Then, she fixed a cold, glittering eye upon the hapless prankster.

“You certainly will.”

 

*****************

Ensconced on the couch, wrapped up in her favorite fluffy blanket, Rae chuckled at the antics on the TV as she crunched her popcorn.  Glancing over at her companion, she grinned a bit fiendishly as she noticed Sam’s empty glass.

"Looks like you could use a refill, Sam.”

The younger Winchester chuckled in response.

“Yep, I sure could!”

Daintily wiping off her hands on a napkin, Rae picked up a small brass bell from the arm of the sofa and rang it gleefully.  Within moments, Dean had appeared.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Dean, Sam could use a refill of that orange juice you squeezed for him.”

Shooting his brother a dirty look, Dean propped his hands on his hips.  “I don’t know why he’s part of the servitude punishment.”

“Because if it hadn’t been for your dumb prank, I wouldn’t have launched the shampoo that gave him the black eye,” Rae calmly explained to him.  For the third time. Smirking from behind his ice pack, Sam waggled his glass at Dean. He rolled his green eyes as he snatched it from his hand, turning back from the kitchen.  “Oh, and Dean? I’m still finding tangles in my hair. When you get back, I’ll need it combed out again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled on his way out.

“Oh, and Dean?  One more thing. I’d really like a slice of that caramel apple pie I made this morning.  Warmed up. Twenty seconds. With a dollop of whipped cream.”

The broad shoulders heaved with a sigh.

“With a dollop of whipped cream,” he snarked under his breath.

“What was that?”

Dean glanced back at the two over his shoulder. Sam was still grinning fiendishly.  Rae had her arms crossed over her chest, one bunny slipper bouncing imperiously, one eyebrow raised in a prim arch.  The light from the TV suddenly caught and winked at some glitter still stuck in her hair, and Dean sighed.

“Whipped cream, coming right up.”

“Don’t forget, no pie for you for twenty-four hours!” she chimed after him.  Both she and Sam fell into giggles at the grumpy whine that reached their ears at her reminder.  “How’s your eye?” 

Sam lowered the ice pack to reveal an eye well on its way to purple.  “Eh.  I’ve had worse.”  With a gentle touch, Sam stroked a ribbon of caramel-colored hair back behind her ear.  A soft grin warmed his hazel eyes. “You’ve still got a little glitter here.”

A snort broke from Rae as she put the popcorn bowl aside and leaned into his side, Sam secretly soaking in her warmth.

“Dude, I’ve got glitter in places I’d rather not discuss.”

Sam chuckled, and Rae smiled as she let herself enjoy the rumble of his mirth against her.  Cas suddenly appeared, greeting them both as he sat down in one of the arm chairs. Dean strode back into the room, stomping over towards them.

“Alright, here’s your damn juice.  And for you, princess-” Dean paused, gazing down at the plate in his hands with something akin to grief.  “One slice of warmed up caramel apple pie with whipped cream. Just for you. None for me,” he choked out.  Rae beamed her thanks up at him as she took the dessert from his grasp, snickering when he flopped dejectedly into the other armchair.  Cas took it all in bemusedly before turning back to the two on the couch.

“Are you sure he isn’t a shifter?”


End file.
